Pizza Restaurant LongPig Pizza
by FanfictionReader2015AD
Summary: This AU there no Superman and no Aliens New Pizza Resturant Open at National City, Meat taste different then Normally.
1. Chapter 1: Hunting of Longpigs

Blair sat in her car with her eyes pinned on the quiet apartment across the street. At this time of night, the roads were clear and dark. Most people would be tucked away in their homes, wanting to be safe from whatever creatures lurked in the night. However, Blair did not fear the dark, she relished in it. The shadows helped her pass unnoticed; protected her from prying eyes. During the night she could be who she was always meant to be—a predator.

With a sigh, she glanced down at her watch. The illuminated screen threw a faint green glow over her features and told her it was almost midnight. Soon the occupants inside the apartment would go to bed. Soon she could pay them a visit. Soon her fun could begin. All she had to do was wait for them to flick off their lights and fall asleep.

A woman walked in front of the apartment window and Blair tracked her procession around the room with her eyes. She scanned down the silhouette of the woman's body and felt ravenous.

Unaware of her silent watcher on the street, the woman performed her nighttime rituals with comfortable ease, stretching her arms above her head and laying down on her bed. Blair watched as the woman talked to someone out of view. After a few moments, the woman reached over and turned off the lamp next to the bed. With the apartment building now plunged into darkness, a shiver of excitement flared to life in Blair's chest. She swallowed in anticipation, feeling her throat tighten and relax. Time to begin—

Blair stepped out of her car and locked the door behind her. She kept her head low as she crossed the street; not that she worried too much about being caught, but any preventative measures against potential witnesses or security cameras were always smart to take.

She walked up to the apartment with no incident; her feet scuffed against the concrete steps leading into the building. Two glass double doors faced her. Her initial assumption was that they would be locked, most apartment lobbies in this city were—some better than others. She wrapped her hand around one of the door's brass handles. The cool metal leached into her skin. Blair pulled and, to her distinct pleasure, opened with ease. There was no lock to contend with. No glass to break. Blair felt like rolling her eyes—amateurs. If this situation wasn't to her direct advantage, she would advise the people living in this building to send a formal complaint to their landlord. All she had to worry about now was finding and breaking into the specific room she needed. Blair stepped farther into the lobby and looked around. She smiled when her eyes landed on a sign pointing to the stairs; her quarry would be on the second floor.

Each step up the stairs made her heart pound harder in her chest. The chilled feeling of anticipation coursed down her spine. It made her hyper-aware of her surroundings; able to pick out the slightest sounds or movements like a true hunter. No one bothered her on the way onto the second floor. Everyone seemed to be tucked away for the night.

She found the correct room a few minutes after arriving on the second floor. The door looked faded and worn from age. Its metal was dented and scuffed in places. Blair hoped this meant that the lock would also be older and more simple to break open. A tan welcome mat sat in front of the entrance. How polite. Blair decided to accept the invitation.

Kneeling, she pulled a few tools from a thin leather case that she kept on her person. Inside was an assortment of instruments: a knife, a hammer, and most importantly, a few different lock pick sets. Selected a tension wrench and a pick, she inserted them into the keyhole.

With the tension wrench, she applied a bit of pressure, like turning key in a lock, and held the wrench in place. Then she took the pick and slid it to the back of the lock. Her hands shook, but she didn't think the act would be noticeable to someone watching unless they were paying her an unnatural amount of attention. She pulled the pick forward, scrubbing the inside of the lock. Small drops of sweat formed on her forehead, but she ignored the urge to wipe them off in favor of working on the lock. Soon she heard all of the internal pins click into place and the lock opened.

Blair opened the door. The door hinges groaned and Blair froze. With more caution, she inched the door open enough to slip her body inside; there was only a small creak of noise. Hopefully, the people inside would be too deep into their sleep cycle to notice anything.

The inside of the apartment was dark and cramped—well, decent-sized as far as city apartments ran. Blair dropped into a crouch, keeping her bodyweight low and centered. With each step, she made sure to place her heel down first and roll her foot forward, minimizing any noise. In times like this, she imagined she was walking on thin ice or glass. Something that could break and send her plummeting if she wasn't careful.

A shuffling noise caught her attention and she turned her body to face a dark room to her left. Step by step she made her way closer to the room. She paused for a moment, letting herself look through the opening in the door before she made her way inside. A small laugh threatened to spill over her lips. This room was the bedroom and both the apartment's inhabitants were inside asleep.

She crept into the room, keeping her breaths light and shallow. Carefully, ever-so-carefully, she made her way to the bed. Looking down, she observed two people sleeping inside. They were two women, maybe in their late-twenties or early-thirties. One had a halo of soft, curled hair; the other had a short red pixie-cut. Blair thought to herself that their two separate looks complemented each other. The two women were curled around one another. Snoring, the black shifted and moved her arm so that it draped over the other woman's waist. Blair took out the leather case once more and selected the hammer. Her hand tightened around the wooden hilts. Its weight in her grip made her feel powerful. Well—time to begin.


	2. Chapter 2: Nearly Caught

She launched herself onto the bed, landing on the blonde woman's waist. The Alexandra woke, confusion bleeding into fear once she realized what was happening. She surged upward, but Blair clamped her hand down around the woman's throat and pushed her back onto the bed. She pulled back her hand and slammed down. The face of the hammer connected with the woman's head with a loud crack. Blood stained her pretty red hair. The woman screamed and tried to fight back. She jerked, but another strike of the hammer forced her back down. Blood and bone showed through a concave in the woman's face. Her eye had popped out of its socket. She gurgled once, blood bubbling up in her throat, then laid still.

Blair finally allowed herself to laugh, still suspended over the Woman; the sound was guttural. She flashed her teeth and spittle flew from her mouth. There was a noise at her side.

"Get off of her!"

Blair jerked her head to the side right as the Maggie tackled her off the bed. The fell to the ground in a pile of flailing arms and scratching hands. In the scuffle, the hammer had fallen somewhere onto the ground. An arm wrapped itself around Blair's neck and squeezed.

The woman sobbed but maintained her position with her arm around Blair's neck, trying to knock her out. "What did you do to her? What did you do—"

Blair bit down on the Maggie's left arm, ripping flesh and meat with a wet tear. The woman screamed in pain and reared back. She stumbled away from Blair and lashed out without direction. Blair took the opportunity to find the hammer. She picked it up from where it had been cast away and swung the tool to crash against the woman's ankle. With a sharp cry, the woman fell to the ground. Blair descended on her like a shark scenting blood; a creature frenzied by bloodlust and unable to help itself. Crack. Crack. Crack. The hammer struck with precision, caving the woman's face in. After another beat, the room was silent once more.

Blair stood and walked around the side of the bed and sat down. She leaned over, placing her forearms on the tops of her thighs, and exhaled. A drop of blood splatter slid down her face and plummeted from the tip of her nose onto the floor. She watched it fall with distanced interest. As the drop hit the ground, she imagined the sound of an ocean wave crashing against a shore. Blair glanced to the side, looking once at the woman spread out on the bed and then at the other sprawled on the ground. Ignoring the gash on each of their heads, they seemed almost peaceful.

She glanced to the side with a bird-like tilt of her head. Next to the bed was a picture of the two women in white wedding dresses. They were hugging each other in the photo and the darker haired woman was holding up a slice of cake. Blair picked up the framed picture and flipped it over. On the back, there was a small inscription written in golden ink: "Alexandra Danvers and Maggie Sawyer. Just Married at the Wedding of a Century!" The wedding date was written in small letters underneath the words. Blair's lip twitched when she saw that the date had only passed a few months ago.

Alex and Maggie, just married—how sweet. She had done them a favor; they would get to be together forever. The whole situation almost had a sickening sweetness to it. Well, time to get down to business before their bodies spoiled.

Getting the two women into her car was simple. Inside the women's closet were two large suitcases, one pink and the other green. How kind of them. Really, it was almost like they knew they would need to be carried out of their apartment one day. All she had to do was stuff each of their bodies into two large suitcases and roll them out to her car. No one would even have a clue.

She only had to shatter a few bones with a hammer to get the woman to fit inside their respective suitcase. As she was loading the first suitcase into the back of her car, a voice called out to her.

"Ma'am?"

Blair froze. She let a smile twitch over her face that edged towards manic. With a quirk of her brow, she turned to address the speaker with the suitcase half-way into the trunk. "Yes?"

The speaker was a short man standing off to her right. Her eyes rolled over his form; he looked tired but friendly. Someone she could overpower with surprise. Blair glanced back into her car to see how far away the hammer was. Not too far—all she needed to do was drop the suitcase and stretch her arm.

"Would you like some help with your suitcases?"

Blair felt her face morph into something more sincere. The hammer wouldn't be needed. "Oh! How kind of you. Please!"

The man nodded and stepped forward. He picked up one suitcase and grunted; Blair wondered if he was surprised by the weight, though he didn't make any passing remarks. Several minutes later and the suitcases were packed into her car. The man waved as he walked away with a smile on his face, obviously pleased that he had been able to help someone with their night.

Wonderful. Blair loved it when the universe worked in her favor. This night seemed full of small victories.

She got into her car and drove, feeling satisfied. Street lights illuminated her passage. For thirty minutes, the streets were void of people; then she saw something that could only be perceived as a golden opportunity. Lena Luthor was riding a bike, alone. She had a backpack on and seemed to be heading somewhere. Peculiar, but Blair wasn't going to take this gift for granted. For a moment, she hesitated. Someone could be awake. Someone could be watching. She looked around then shrugged. Her car didn't have a license plate and her face was obscured—even if someone saw they could only tell so much. Decision made, she pressed down on the accelerator as her hands tightened around the steering wheel. The car rammed into the biker's side, throwing the girl across the street. Her body flipped once, twice, then stopped. The girl hadn't even had time to express shock. Twenty minutes later and Blair had packed the girl into the car and was back on her way.

The girl's ID card had said woman name was Lena Luthor and that she was an organ donor. Those words made Blair want to smirk—how appropriate they would be.


	3. Chapter 3: Meat is Yummy

Blair drove for a few more minutes until she arrived at the back of a large building. She fumbled with a key fob and a large garage door on the building opened with a low rumble. With practiced grace, she backed the car into the garage and closed the door once more.

Now inside the building, Blair turned off her car and stepped outside. She was in a medium- sized loading dock made of cold concrete floors and metal walls. During the day, this was where they accepted regular product shipments. At night, this was how she brought her more— delicately—procured supplies into her business.

She pressed a button on the wall and another internal garage door opened, revealing an industrial kitchen. This was where her favorite part of the night would occur. Blair, the sole owner of LongPig Pizza, could begin to prepare her ingredients for the day.

Moving with determination, she brought the bodies one by one into the kitchen. The meat would have to be prepared soon before the bodies spoiled and started to rot. However, the quantity of meat she brought back this night meant that she would be able to go a few days without needing to hunt again. Small blessings.

The bodies of Lena and Alexandra and Maggie were still soft when she sawed into them, cutting them into unrecognizable bits. Items she had no use for, like hair, teeth, and clothes were thrown into the pizza kiln in the back of the kitchen to be burnt. She never liked the sharp scent of burning hair that filled the air during this process but knew she didn't have a better alternative.

She sliced into the meat, starting with a cut of lean muscle from one of the women's backs. Piece by piece, she laid the strips down onto the metal table. Red pepper flakes, garlic powder, fennel seeds, and salt were mixed and spread over the meat. She used her hands to work the two together. Using a more precise knife, Blair cut the strips into one-inch cubes and placed them into the freezer to be dealt with later.

Next, she moved around to the front of the women's bodies—looking for cuts with more fat. Similar to before, she sliced strips from their torsos. However, she left these pieces in long, thick rectangular cuts. They looked almost identical to bacon. Only someone with an especially refined palette would be able to tell the difference.

With the bacon finished and stored, she returned to the original cuts placed in the freezer and took them back out. She feed them to a meat grinder. Its low mechanical whir sent a pleased shiver down her spine. Once the meat was properly ground, she placed it back into the freezer under a small label that said "Sausage."

Another one of her specialties was buffalo chicken, which was a bit trickier to disguise as human meat. Fortunately, she had several years up to this point that allowed her to hone her craft to an artform. She used the women's arms and thighs for this particular recipe. The meat was boiled, then shredded into pieces. The next step was to place the meat into barbeque sauce where it would sit and absorb flavor overnight.

The remaining meat trimmings were sent through the grinder, like the sausage had been. Using a mortar and pestle, she ground spices and red peppers together, making a delicious mixture of seasoning. Blair added them to the meat then placed the mixture into the refrigerator to cure. The process would take about a day to be completed, but then could move on to making fresh salami and pepperoni.

Once the meat was packed away for later, she cleaned up the rest of the kitchen so that no evidence of her night-time activities remained. Everything returned to being clean and spotless, as if she had never dismembered a body in the room in the first place.

Sunlight was filtering in through the window at this point. The nights she spent hunting were always sleepless; there never seemed to be enough time to rest before the day needed to be started. Soon her staff would arrive and the restaurant would need to be opened. Blair walked back out to her car and found her spare work uniform; a simple, black outfit with a white apron. The words "LongPig Pizza" were printed in red lettering on the back.

Blair returned to the kitchen and checked her appearance in a small mirror. There was a speck of blood dried on her forehead. Wetting a washcloth under the faucet, she wiped the mark away.

Just as she was tossing the bloodied cloth into the fire, the first few members of her restaurant staff arrived. They walked into the room chatting with each other, not noticing Blair's presence. She coughed to get their attention.

"Oh! Sorry, Blair. Didn't know you were going to be here this early." Ivan, one of her chefs, nodded at her with respect and went to wash his hands. He wasn't one to hold long conversations—Blair enjoyed him.

Dimitri, the other chef who had walked into the room, stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "Yeah, boss. What brings you here so early?"

Blair smiled. "We got a supply shipment delivered this morning. I didn't want to leave it outside to spoil."

Dimitri chuckled. "You know, I'm always surprised how fresh all of our meat products are. I've worked in other restaurants and that's something hard to do."

"Well..." Blair shrugged. "I only want to serve the best."

Ivan glanced at her from the other side of the room. "You always do." Blair looked away, feeling flattered.

Fifteen minutes later, two more employees walked into the kitchen to check-in for the day. Brie, a server, and Serena, a delivery driver. Brie was a bright young woman paying her way through graduate school. She wanted to be a genetic counselor and always had something kind to say to those around her. Serena was a bit more withdrawn, only seventeen and still going through her teenage-angst. Blair hoped to be able to open the girl up soon—in the emotional sense. This early in the morning, she didn't need more than two front-end works. By the time the afternoon rolled around Quinn and Lena, the rest of her small staff, would arrive.

A chime sounded in the kitchen and Blair's attention snapped upwards. She waved to Brie. "Go out there. We've got a customer."

Brie nodded and left the kitchen. Her voice was clear as it called out the restaurant's tagline, "Welcome, to LongPig Pizza. Nothing here is vegetarian."

There was another alert chime, this time from a computer in the corner. Blair walked over to it and read the message. She turned her head and called out to her two chefs. "We've got an order for one medium sausage pizza."

"Got it!" Dimitri called back and Ivan nodded in affirmative.

Blair turned to Serena. "This one is a delivery, Serena. Do you have that covered?" Serena grabbed her car keys and waved them in the air. "Yep."

"Fantastic—"

Brie popped back into the room holding a slip of paper. "I'm going to need a pepperoni pizza for the couple that just walked in." She placed the order ticket on the counter for the cooks to see and left the kitchen once more.

Blair walked over to where the two men were preparing the order. She looked over their work with a discerning gaze. "Make sure to use the new product, I don't want to lose my reputation of having fresh meat."

"Yes, ma'am." Both men responded, now focused on their work.

Several hours passed. Quinn and Lena had both arrived and were buzzing around the shop, taking and delivering orders. Bria ran past carrying a plate of steaming salami pizza in one hand

and a bacon pizza in the other. She brought the plates to a table and set them down in front of a smiling couple.

Blair walked to the front of the restaurant and looked around. Besides the table that had just been served, there were two other tables filled with patrons in the restaurant. They had a buffalo chicken pizza and a beef pizza, respectively. She smiled, feeling pleased as she watched her guests consume their meals. Their voices floated around her, singing praises.

"Absolutely delicious."

"The ingredients are so fresh."

"I wonder what seasonings are used?"

One of her regulars waved to her. He had a piece of pepperoni pizza in his hand. "This tastes great, Blair. You've outdone yourself once again!"

She smiled in response. The praise—if she was being honest—was to be expected. She used nothing but the finest for her pizzas. Everything was as it should be. Her restaurant was thriving and the meat was delicious.


End file.
